


The Start of a Beautiful Friendship

by Indybaggins



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Boys Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-15
Updated: 2007-09-15
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indybaggins/pseuds/Indybaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Co-written with Blackstray. Highschool AU. Jeff’s first day of school, improv and boy!kissing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Start of a Beautiful Friendship

 

 

A deceptively sturdy-looking rectangular case fell to the floor and expelled its contents of assorted pens and number two pencils when it burst open on impact with the linoleum. An avalanche in the form of books and papers followed suit. When these were joined with the crumple remains of a book bag, a large black sneaker came crushing down on them. 

“Aw come on!” A frustrated teen with wild black hair dropped to one knee grabbing up sheets of paper in an effort to save what he could from the two other boys that were intent on destroying them. 

“That’s what you get Davis, for showing off for Mrs. Hall!” The speaker, an intimidating junior, was known among the freshmen as ‘Super Scary Carey’, a name that the accosted boy would almost find humorous, if not for the fact that its owner was now slamming him against a set of lockers. Behind Carey stood another junior known as Wayne ‘World of Pain’ Brady, egging him on. 

“What! You think you’re a better singer then me? Chorus is my show, pal!” Brady accentuated each word by jabbing his finger into Davis’s chest. 

“Yeah!” Carey added his two cents in. “Let’s see if the scrawny jerk fits in a locker!” 

“Hey! Drewzilla!” 

“What?! Stiles?” Carey turned to see a tall boy with shoes of a color and size that one would normally only see in old cartoons. He was joined by another boy sporting a pompadour and thick glasses in a day and age where such things would normally mark one as a social outcast. Fortunately for these two, they had the attitude and social standing to pull off such eccentricities. 

“Well if it isn’t Tooth Fairy Carey and What a Pain Wayne. Don’t you two have go kick puppies somewhere?” 

“Mine your own business, Proops.” 

“We’re making it our business.” The four glared at each other, and Jeff Davis had a mad, wild thought of trying to sneak away while the others were distracted, but Carey still held a fistful of Jeff’s shirt, forcing him to remain where he was. 

Carey and Wayne finally looked away, with dismissive noises and a “Phff! Whatever.” Carey released Jeff and the duo walked away, but not before Wayne growled to Jeff “I’m watching you, punk.” 

Jeff let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and brushed a hand down his rumpled shirt to straighten it. 

“Um, thanks.” He said with a bewildered smile. The taller boy took his hand in a hardy shake. 

“Don’t mention it. You’re the new transfer student, right? I’m Ryan Stiles.” 

“Yeah, Jeff Davis. Nice ta meet ya.” 

“Charmed.” Said the other boy, offering Jeff one of his fallen books. “I’m Greg. Greg Proops. And those two,” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the two retreating bullies, “are more bark than bite, really. I wouldn’t worry too much about them, unless you’re a Twinkie during Drewzilla’s feeding time…” 

Stiles laughed and Jeff joined in after a moment, still a little uneasy after being attacked after class. They bent down and helped Jeff retrieve his belongings. 

“Seriously though, thanks. If there’s something I can do for you guys in return-” Jeff said, shoving his papers in the crevices left among the books. Greg interrupted him. 

“Actually, you can. Join our improv club.” 

 

-

 

Greg checked his watch for the seventh time in as many minutes, his brow furrowing. He had been feeling finicky all afternoon and he knew it showed, but he couldn’t help it. He had been running his hand through his hair even more often than usual, flicking up the collar of his shirt, straightening out the tips again and again. 

From the moment they had seen Jeff in the hallway Greg and Ryan had wordlessly agreed. Improv. It was not so much the looks (although those didn’t hurt) as much as the attitude. Jeff has been shy, yes, but annoyed too, defiance in his eyes, sharp intelligence, a feeling of ‘get me on a stage and I will blow your mind’ and that was exactly the thing they looked for. Rarely found, too.

Ryan, leaning next to Greg against the school theatre’s back wall, plucked an almost-completely smoked cigarette from between his lips, eyes following its smoke upwards into the setting-sun sky. 

Ryan had been watching Greg closely, taking note of how important this could be for the both of them, although in a distant, abstract way. They needed people to perform with. They were good, they both knew so, but there was something missing still. Some sort of calming influence, something different than the fast, old quips between them. 

Jeff had seemed like he could be it, and he knew Greg was hoping for the same thing. 

Ryan, eyes still distant, threw his cigarette to the asphalt with a casual flick and spoke, his voice calm sounding but for a flutter of annoyance no one but Greg would have been able to pick up on. “He’s not gonna show.”

Greg glanced at his watch again, the motion familiar by now, (their invitee was a full fourteen minutes late) and went back to fidgeting, his thumb smoothing the fabric of his jacket over and over again until Ryan reached out and stilled it, fingers wrapping around Greg’s. 

Taking a step closer, Ryan stage-whispered what he had said before near Greg’s ear, somewhat pleased when he saw Greg startle at the sudden closeness. “He’s _not_ gonna show.”

He had distracted Greg in this manner at least a dozen times before, (in between class breaks, before gym class, one memorable time pressed to the glass wall of the principal’s office) but it still managed to be exciting to Ryan as he wrapped his fingers around Greg’s other wrist as well and pressed it down against the wall, feeling pleased as he saw Greg’s eyes widen in apprehension. 

Carefully positioning his body over Greg’s, Ryan pressed one denim-clad leg in between Greg’s, effectively trapping him. Greg didn’t protest, what was a wonder in itself, and Ryan moved in and touched his lips to Greg’s, sparingly and soft, more like a dare (let me) than anything else. 

Greg, as always, didn’t let him close right away, pressing his lips together, his body language tense, breathing rapid, but his eyes were glittering, filled with exhilaration and something like wonder, Ryan thought. No longer thinking of Jeff. 

They hadn’t done it often enough to be _sure_ yet really, and so Ryan dared him again, a quick touch of his lips that Greg accepted this time, his body relaxing, lips shyly seeking out Ryan’s. Ryan could feel a flush creeping over his cheeks, a tangible heat spreading between them, Greg’s tongue as fast and sensual as his words could be, the feeling dark and arousing and indescribable… when he suddenly heard the distinctive sound of someone stepping up behind him. 

Ryan froze, perfectly still for a second, and then jumped away as if he was on fire, ready to claim a terrible injury on Greg’s part (‘he needed the Heimlich manoeuvre!’, ‘was drowning!’, ‘we were fighting!’, ‘it was a dare!’) but before he could say anything Greg spoke, sounding out of breath and perhaps a little amused as he said “well hello there Jeff!”

Jeff looked even worse than Ryan felt, a steady blush coloring his cheeks all the way to his neck, eyes glassy and not entirely disinterested, Ryan noted. Before he could linger on it too long though, Greg hit him in the arm, smirking and then subtly beaming in his general direction (“told you he was going to show!”) and they started walking towards the theatre doors. 

 

-

 

Jeff pushed open one of the heavy oak doors of the theatre, the venire coating encasing it worn soft and smooth to the touch from the years of young patrons of the arts that had entered before them. A smile crossed Ryan’s lips at the passing thought and he held the other door open with a dramatic flourish for Greg, who rolled his eyes and laughed at his friend’s antics. 

The stage was populated by a random assortment of teens and two men whose hairlines seemed to be racing each other to the back of their owner’s head. Jeff recognized one of them as Principal Anderson, and assumed the other was the teacher in charge of the Improv Club. 

“Hey-ya Mr. Mochrie!”

“Sorry we’re late- but we brought you a present!” 

Mr. Mochrie looked up from his conversation with the Principal as the young trio approached. 

“Hey, nice to meet you, Mr. Mockery. I’m Jeff Davis.” 

“Glad to have you, Davis.”

Ryan elbowed Jeff as he shook hands with Mr. Mochrie. 

“It’s Mochrie.” Ryan whispered. Greg gave him a questioning look. “He spelt it wrong.” Ryan explained with a shrug. 

“How the hell can you tell?” Greg whispered back.

“Sorry?” Jeff whispered, but the Principal interrupted. 

“Ah, Davis. Taking well to your new school life?”

“Well, I- ” 

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell?”

“I’ll handle this.” Mr. Mochrie intervened. “Could you introduce Mr. Davis to the other members, Clive?” The principal nodded his consent and gave Ryan and Greg a stern look as Mr. Mochrie brought them over to a corner to have a stern talking too. 

“What have I told you two about smoking!?” Jeff could barely hear them as they went out of range.

“Not on your watch? Or was it not when you’re being watched?”

“Bring an enough for a bum if you need one?” 

“Ugh.” Mr. Mochrie led them out into the hallway, but Jeff could already guess that the teacher was not actually angry with them but saving them from being punished by the principal. The principal had turned his attentions to introducing the club members to Jeff by way of excessive use of simile. 

“And of course, that’s Laura Hall on the piano. You’ll have met her already, right?”

“Right….” Jeff said, shaking hands with a girl named Josie who was apparently to comedy what llama’s are to sheepherders. Jeff was still trying to figure out exactly what that meant when Mr. Mochrie came back with Ryan and Greg. 

“I should really be going. Good luck with everything, Colin, kids. See you in school.”

“Later Clive, and thanks. Alright, Davis, lets see what you’ve got. Did you old school have a comedy club or anything?”

“They had a young Republican’s Club, but it’s not quite the same thing.” Jeff replied, not missing a beat.

Mr. Mochrie raised an eyebrow, and then laughed. “Not bad. Let’s see how you do with some games.”

 

What followed could only be described as some of the most outrageous, awkward and hilarious hours of Jeff’s young life as he learned the way of improv by playing an assortment of bizarre and scandalous ‘games’ that Mr. Mochrie would pull out of his head, putting the whole of the club through unrehearsed paces that kept them thinking on their feet. 

Exhausted by the end of the meeting, Jeff found his efforts rewarded by way of a hardly slap on the shoulder by Mr. Mochrie and an invite to come over Greg’s house with Ryan to goof off for the remainder of the evening. Greg tempted him with his mother’s freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, and though he was tired, the snacks sounded good. That and he didn’t want to leave the company of his new friends just yet. 

“Count me in!” 

 

-

 

Greg yelled his last goodbye to Mr. Mochrie, grabbed his jacket from where he had carelessly thrown it over a theatre chair and walked outside, catching up with Jeff and Ryan. He was flushed, the energy of the games still with him, his entire body radiating a pleasant tiredness now, a “we did well”. He knew for a fact that Jeff was feeling it too as he caught him looking upwards, a soft smile on his lips. Following Jeff’s gaze he could see the night sky had given way to some stars now; but those were of much less interest to him that Jeff himself, long eyelashes hardly visible in the shadows, throat pale and bare, tongue moving out to wet his lips… 

After a couple seconds Ryan coughed, a soft reminder to get going, and Greg tore his gaze away and smirked. They had agreed to try their best not to spook Jeff too badly yet, but as their eyes met he could tell Ryan had been thinking the same thing. The boy was _pretty_.

Jeff himself seemed to be oblivious to their looks, lost in a world of his own, staring ahead dreamily even as they started on their way to Greg’s house. 

Compared to the theatre, the outside air was chilly, a solid wind having picked up together with the darkness, and Greg found himself walking closer to Ryan than was absolutely necessary. It felt comforting though, to let their shoulders brush together at every step, and Ryan didn’t pull away either. While Jeff was now on the talkative stage of his “first-time improv high,” recalling games and skits, talking energetically and with a hint of _love_ in his voice already, Greg and Ryan were having a silent conversation of their own. 

Greg’s long, drawn out gaze towards Jeff, focused on his face, his words, meant ‘I like him.’ 

The same but with a hint of pleasure, a flicker of something forbidden meant ‘You want him. Maybe I want him more.’

But when Ryan lit a cigarette, hand curled around it protectively, and offered it to Greg after the first drag, it meant ‘You’re still mine.’ And when Greg accepted, even though he didn’t like to smoke (yet) it was a simple ‘I am.’

And so by the time they reached the house they had made a decision of some sort, one they had considered from the very first moment they had met Jeff. He was going to be one of them. 

They entered Greg’s house through the kitchen back door, the smell of freshly baked chocolate cookies already in the air, and, grabbing the plate from the counter, made a beeline for Greg’s bedroom. 

Ryan, having always liked Greg’s bedroom, both for the impressive collection of miniature trains and Velvet Underground posters as well as the ample amounts of booze Greg kept around, made himself right at home. Dropping in a beanbag, Ryan turned around to put on some music, and then looked at Greg and Jeff as they sat down on the bed. Jeff rather gingerly, Greg with an overly relaxed sprawl that didn’t quite hide his nervousness, especially not so as he reached under the bed and pulled out a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Raising it up to the others, he spoke something about “a toast to Jeff’s first step in what will hopefully be a long improv career.” Even though it sounded corny as hell Jeff seemed sufficiently proud, accepting the bottle and drinking in long, heavy gulps, continuing even as the tears came into his eyes, until he emerged coughing. 

Passing the bottle around, and switching between it and the chocolate cookies (which, strangely, wasn’t as bad a combination as he might have thought), the conversation flowed easily between them, from school to classmates to Drew and Wayne, and, eventually, to girlfriends and the like. Seemingly having drawn courage from the drink, Jeff asked, hesitantly “So, are you, I mean, you two, eh… are?” 

Greg just stared intently at Jeff until he finished formulating his question in a blurred mumble. Ryan watched Greg, enjoyed seeing him like this more than he would ever admit, and when Greg faced him, suddenly all-secure, even cocky, he raised an eyebrow and let his legs fall open, wordlessly inviting Greg to come closer. 

Greg, his expression changing to a gentler grinning, took one step towards the ground and sat down on his knees, crawling between Ryan’s legs. Ryan had a momentarily vision of keeping him right there, on his knees before him, and Greg must have seen something in his eyes because he grinned ever wider. They both knew that wasn’t an option for that evening, not yet, and so Ryan’s hand moved to touch the side of Greg’s face, steered him closer, and they looked at each other for a moment before breaching the gap, closing their eyes and touching lips. It was fairly chaste in the sense that this time, they were both aware that they had an audience, but also extremely exciting for exactly that reason. When Ryan could hear Jeff shift on the bed, _hear_ his discomfort, he pulled Greg closer with a grunt, one hand moving around to touch the soft hairs in his nape, making it more of show, the other on his lower back, steadying him. 

When they broke apart they both turned to look at Jeff, who was staring at them with big eyes, his mouth half-open, breathing fast. As his gaze shifted lower Ryan could see what had had been expecting all along. Jeff was hard. 

Having seen Ryan’s look, Jeff suddenly jumped into action, got up quickly, started saying “I eh, I should go now, thanks for everything and…” but Greg was faster, catching up with him before he walked the three steps towards the door, and put his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. 

From where Ryan sat he could see it was a light touch, one that could easily have been shrugged off, but it stilled Jeff, made him turn around slowly, with something of trepidation in his eyes. 

‘He still thinks we’re fucking with him,’ Ryan realized, and Greg must have seen the same thing, because he reached out, stood on his tip-toes and put a quick, soft kiss on Jeff’s cheek. Jeff blinked a couple times at that, but then smiled, a little weary still but also hopeful. 

And when Greg kissed him again, Jeff tentatively angled his head to catch his lips, and allowed Greg to deepen the kiss. 

Ryan leaned back in the beanbag, and watched what he had been thinking about all day. Greg’s hands sneaking into Jeff’s dark hair, pushing him against the bedroom door. Jeff’s soft sighs as he was being kissed, his body suddenly drained of all tension, submitted and pliable. As promised though, Greg kept it short, stopping the kiss right before it would have been too much, and, with a look towards Ryan, stepped away. 

Jeff looked between them, from Greg by his side to Ryan still sitting in the beanbag, and took an unsure step in Ryan’s direction. Greg, visibly pleased, sat back on the bed, watching the two of them now. Ryan felt his heart hammering in his chest as Jeff came closer, because for all his bravado he wasn’t sure this would be as they had imagined; and he realized he was as nervous as Greg had been ever since they had talked about it, maybe even more. 

Jeff looked utterly kissable though, lips red and slightly wet still, hair spiking around his head, and as he crawled in between Ryan’s legs as Greg had done before, Ryan reached out and pulled Jeff on top of him right away. They were kissing before he had time to think of anything else, the feeling warm and dirty and intoxicating. 

When they broke apart Jeff was slow to get up, looking slightly dazed and a lot tousled. Greg smiled at them both, visibly beaming, and Ryan found it was easy to grin back. 

After a moment, Jeff looked at his watch, and then seemed to come back to reality with a shock, a heavy note of regret in his voice “I… need to go, eh, it’s a school night, and I’m already late, and…

Greg nodded. “We’ll see you at school tomorrow.” 

Ryan, swallowing around a sudden tightness in his throat, replied, “Yeah, tomorrow.” 

And with that and a last lingering look, Jeff was hurrying away, closing the door behind him. 

They could still hear him running down the stairs, taking two at a time, as Ryan got out of his seat and went to sit next to Greg on the edge of the bed. Greg moved until they were sitting side to side, leaning together. 

‘He was good,’ Ryan wanted to say. 

‘Amazing,’ Greg would agree. 

Instead he just leaned close to Greg, and felt him lean back.

 

 

 

 


End file.
